Of Love and Quidditch
by MandyinKC
Summary: Moments from the love of Oliver and Katie Wood.
1. Chapter 1: Oliver's Retirement

Moments from the lives of Oliver and Katie Wood.

Author's Note: If you've read my stories before, you know that I have a tender spot for Katie and Oliver. Sometimes, I'm attacked by KBOW plot bunnies that just beg to be written down even if they don't fit into a story. This collection is a depository for one-shots and drabbles in need of a home. I can't promise they'll all be fluffy, but I do hope you'll enjoy.

Disclaimer: The world and characters belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

Oliver's Retirement

On feet charmed to be silent, Oliver crept into his bedroom. It was dark, like the rest of his home, but his eyes had already adjusted. Besides, after two decades he could probably navigate this room blind. Setting his duffle bag next to the laundry to be sorted later, Oliver undressed quietly. He summoned a pair of pajama bottoms from the bureau, then headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth. The click of the door sounded like a potions explosion, and Oliver winced, but there was no sound from the bedroom. Finally, after spitting into the sink and rinsing, Oliver stretched and rubbed his weary eyes.

Back to back exhibition matches in Italy. Ten days on the road. Every muscle in Oliver's body ached. He missed his bed. He missed his wife. When he first joined Puddlemere United—which was a bloody good number of years ago now—playing on the Continent was a rare occurrence. The teams of the British and Irish Quidditch League were content to play amongst themselves—leave the globetrotting to the National sides. Merlin, he'd done that with Scotland for too many years. Now, Puddlemere trooped off to the far corners of Europe four times a year. It was tiring.

Placing a charm on the mattress to keep it from shifting, Oliver slipped under the blankets and groaned. He sounded like an old man, but he couldn't help it. The softness of his own bed under his weary body was a rare comfort after more than a week of hotels. He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes.

"Oliver?"

"Sorry, lass, didn't mean to wake ye."

Katie scooted across the bed and pressed herself against his back. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

"I begged an early Portkey. Seniority has to count for something."

"Mm." Her arm looped around his ribcage. "You smell good."

"I made good use of the hotel shower before leaving." He blew out a long breath. The shower in his hotel room had been the best part of the whole damned trip. "I think it's time to retire. "

Nimble fingers played across his chest and down his stomach. "Can we talk about it in the morning?" Her hand slipped under the waistband of his trousers.

"Such wifely sympathy." Oliver rolled onto his back, smirking. "I think you just want me for my body."

"Well, you do make a lot of noise about retirement after every away match."

Her fingers were tangled in the hair of his lower abdomen, and Oliver was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his train of thought. "I've been playing professional Quidditch since I was eighteen."

Katie's hand stilled on his stomach. She propped herself up on her elbow so that she could look at him in the dark. "You're serious?"

"Aye." He took her distracting hand and kissed her knuckles. "It takes a week to recover from a match. The last time we had one last more than seven hours I ended up on the Disabled List for two weeks."

And nearly lost his position to the reserve Keeper, Matt Higgins. Oliver had to work damn hard to get back on first team, pushing his body and his ability to their limits. The truth was, not many players his age consistently played at this level, either due to injuries or they'd just grown slow. Oliver was rapidly falling into the second category. He'd missed three Quaffles during the second game in Italy—three Quaffles he would have saved five years ago. In the end, Higgins deserved Oliver's spot on the team, or at least a shot at it. The kid had paid his dues, and he was a bloody good Keeper. Meanwhile, Oliver was a shadow of himself.

"I have three grown lads," Oliver continued. "One of them plays reserve for my team. Hell, in a few years my baby girl will be playing, too."

"You were chuffed when Puddlemere signed Rory," Katie reminded him, as wives were wont to do.

"Lass, I've spent most of my career watching teammates take groupies up to their rooms. I shrugged my shoulders, rolled my eyes, and took the piss the next day at training. The other night, I spotted Rory with some giggling slag and it was all I could do not to tell him off."

Groaning, Katie buried her face in Oliver's shoulder. Their youngest son was impetuous to a fault. Rory'd been recruited to Puddlemere at eighteen, just like Oliver, only as a Chaser. The lad nearly bollocksed the whole thing his first season by having an affair with a teammate. They'd raised three lads, Oliver and Katie. Those boys had blown the door off the house, set nasty hexes on each other, pummeled themselves black and blue, and in one memorable instance, nearly burnt down the bloody barn. Oliver couldn't think of another time he was as angry with any of his sons as he was with Rory when that affair hit the tabloids. Since then, Rory had worked hard to rebuild what little reputation he had. When the coaches wanted him to switch from Chaser to Beater, Rory did it without complaint, throwing his mind and body into learning a new skill set. There hadn't been any women in more than a year as far as Oliver knew. Seeing his son wander off with some blonde—knowing what was likely to happen—had worried Oliver, and not just because Rory was only beginning to gain back the trust of the team.

"I reacted like a father, not his teammate, and that's not fair to him," Oliver went on. "It's time to hang up the boots. Besides—"

Oliver trailed off. He still loved Quidditch—every bloody minute of it. All the things that came with Quidditch—the traveling, the endorsements, the media—well, he'd leave that. The passion was there, even if the body was less so. Yet, that still wasn't at the heart the of decision. Hell, he hadn't even realized this was a decision he'd made until a few minutes ago.

"What?" Katie murmured, stroking his chest.

"Rory's a bloody good Beater. He has the size, he's gaining the skill, and he has the insight of a Chaser. He should be first team." Oliver sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "He's in my shadow. I'm not sure Puddlemere will ever give him a real shot while I'm there."

"He has to earn that, you can't clear his path."

"I know, lass, but he has. He's toed the line. He's done everything they've asked of him. You've not seen him work in this position, not really—he's good. Then there's Belle."

"She won't change her mind about Puddlemere just because you've retired."

Their youngest, their lassie, was one of the most skilled Chasers Oliver had ever seen. She was sixteen with two more years at Hogwarts before she graduated. Over the summer holiday, she made it very plain that she would not join her dad's team. She understood, probably better than her brother, that joining Puddlemere meant living in her old man's shadow, even if they didn't play in the same position. Oliver reckoned that it was Belle who planted this seed in his brain. It propagated like a weed.

Oliver shrugged. "I know. She's right, though, they'll never get a real chance with me around."

"Oh, Ollie." Katie fitted her body closer to his. "I'm so glad I had children with you."

"Were there other options?"

"Well, I was pretty fit in those days."

Oliver's hand worked down Katie's back so he could grope her arse. "Still are."

"Love." Her tone grew serious. "You don't think that's one sacrifice too many, even for our kids?"

"Lass, even if this wasn't the best thing to do for the kids, my body is done. I'm slower, weaker, and…" he groaned. "Everything hurts."

For a moment, the two of them lie in silence as the full gravity of Oliver's decision settled in. He thought of the eighteen-year-old kid he was, the one who signed with Puddlemere United. That kid never once thought the dream would come to an end. All he could see were years and years of Quaffles and broomsticks ahead of him. It turned out to be decades, but now Oliver was standing on the other side wondering what was next.

Katie propped herself up on her elbow again. "Tomorrow we'll talk about this more, put together a plan. Puddlemere will want to make a big deal about this, won't they. That means talking to the press."

Oliver snorted. "Bring it on."

"So. Retirement?"

"Aye. I reckon."

"What will you do with yourself, Wood?"

"Don't know. Maybe I'll help 'round the farm."

Katie snorted this time. "I'll be sure to warn Cam that you're planning to be underfoot."

Oliver rolled towards Katie, nuzzling her neck and behind her ear. "We could have another baby, Mrs. Wood," he murmured.

"Bloody hell!" Katie sat up, her elbows poked out. "Did you take a Quaffle to the head, Wood?"

"I'll do all the work this time around." He smirked up at her.

"Oh? You'll carry him for nine months, too?"

Oliver chuckled. "Alright, lass, you've got me there. I'll do all the work _after_ he's born."

"Except the nursing."

"Aye." He squeezed her thigh. "Not the right equipment."

Katie folded her arms. "You've gone completely nutters. Utterly barking. We should be fitting you for a nice bed in the Janus Thickey Ward instead of talking about your retirement."

"So. You're not keen on the idea."

"We have adult children!"

"No baby then." Oliver chuckled, and Katie jabbed him in the shoulder with her finger. "Reckon I'll have to look into coaching."

"I approve of Plan B," she said tartly. "I also approve of you not puttering around the house. You'd drive me mad within a week." She flopped back onto her pillows, still grumbling. "Baby, indeed."

Oliver crawled over his wife, fitting his hips between her thighs and kissing her collarbone up her neck to find that spot behind her ear again. "I think we started this conversation on a much more delightful note…."

Katie giggled, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and the other one reaching for the bedside table. "I thought everything hurt."

"I'm making a miraculous recovery." He flexed his hips, rubbing himself against her.

Humming, she drew her legs up to cradle him against her body.

"Hand me my wand. I've taken my chances with you before, Wood, and look where it's got me! Married to a pensioner."

"Oi!" Oliver goosed her arse. "I'm not ancient."

Katie giggled again, pulling him closer for a kiss. "Prove it."


	2. Chapter 2: The Reckoning

Author's Note: Besides being on the long side, this one-shot is also more serious.

* * *

The Reckoning

Leaning over the sink, Oliver trimmed his mustache with tiny scissors that were too small for his big hands. He'd tried to do this with magic, but his mustache had come out uneven and misshapen. That's when Katie started her Anti-Mustache Campaign. Originally, he'd grown it as part of a fundraising drive for the Sirius Black Memorial Orphanage, but the night the mustache debuted was the best match of Oliver's career. A total shut out. Not a single Quaffle scored on him. He was invincible, the Master of the Hoops. After that, Oliver decided he'd keep his furry little good luck charm, and it proved its worth time and again—Puddlemere was on an eight game wining streak.

" _Witches and wizards, we'll have your Quidditch scores in a moment, but first some breaking news…."_

The wireless played in the background. Oliver charmed his straight razor to hover over the sink then soaped his jaw and down his throat. The plan was to shave the mustache at the end of the season, but Katie was growing persistent. She claimed that it frightened the children, which couldn't be further from the truth. Campbell and Bobby liked how it tickled when Oliver blew kisses on their cheeks. They even drew on their own mustaches with magic markers when Katie wasn't looking. When that argument didn't work, she claimed it made her nose itch when they kissed, but she didn't seem to mind when it was applied to her other bits.

" _The Wizengamot just issued a statement regarding the upcoming Death Eater Trials. Lucius Malfoy has pled guilty in return for a reduced sentence and his cooperation against fellow members of Voldemort's terrorist organization. His son, Draco Malfoy, has also pled guilty to lesser charges of Assault with Dark Magic and Accessory After the Fact in the attack on Hogwarts known as the Battle of the Astronomy Tower that led to the death of former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Malfoy the younger will be released from house arrest beginning the first of the year, but remain on probation—"_

"Bloody hell!"

The razor carved a chunk of skin from Oliver's chin. Grabbing a towel from the vanity, Oliver pressed it against the wound. Red bloomed against the white terry. Assault with Dark Magic and Accessory After the Fact? The burly Keeper blew several short breaths through his nose. Never underestimate a snake's ability to slither out of danger.

oOo

A tiny, gray blur barreled through the garden straight for the kitchen window. Groping inside her dressing gown pocket, Katie barely produced her wand in time to save the window from the imminent crash. The small owl cartwheeled into the kitchen, buzzing Katie's head and dropping a roll of parchment onto the ground with a twittering hoot. Two little boys scrambled out of their chairs at the table, chasing the bird around the kitchen and hooting.

"Boys!" Katie yelled above the din. She tried to grab her son's arm as he raced by, but they were faster than her these days. "Levicorpus."

Bobby was hoisted topsy turvy into the air. His little face was red from running and giggling. Whoever sent that menace of an owl this early in the morning had better have a good excuse. Campbell, her almost four-year-old nephew, skidded to a halt to stare up at Bobby with big eyes.

"Me next, Auntie Kay!" he pleaded, clasping his hands and jumping up and down. "Me next!"

Katie levitated Bobby into her arms so he sat atop her enormous belly. Merlin, the one inside of her seemed just as excited as his brothers. It felt like he was doing a jig on her bladder.

"Not now, love." Katie kissed Bobby's cheek and set him free.

The owl was hopping from the back of one chair to the next. It never ceased to amaze Katie how quickly her home could descend into chaos. She hadn't even put the porridge on the table yet, but already she was chasing down miniature wizards. She hoped this was not a harbinger of the day to come.

"Campbell, get the owl treats from the drawer," Katie instructed as she summoned the scroll from the floor. "You can each give our visitor one treat, but only one. You don't want to give him a tummy ache."

The boys rushed over to the drawer where Katie kept treats and coins for the owls that delivered _The Daily Prophet_. Feeding the owls was one of their favorite activities and should keep them occupied long enough for her to read the letter. It was twisted into a tight roll, periwinkle blue wax with an ivy-entwined H sealing it shut. Katie didn't recognize the fancy H, nor the neat handwriting inside, but it was signed Hermione Granger at the bottom.

Katie knew Hermione Granger of course. Even if the other woman wasn't the brightest witch of their age and a war hero, they had been in the same House at Hogwarts. However, the two Gryffindor girls did not know each other well enough to be on early-morning-owl terms.

" _Katie Wood_

 _The Kitchen_

 _Red's Wood, Scotland_

 _Dear Katie,_

 _I wanted to warn you before the news hits: Draco Malfoy's sentencing will be announced today. You've been informed already that he was unlikely to be charged with attempted murder on you, Ron, or Dumbledore. However, matters are worse than we feared. There will be no charges for Use of an Unforgivable. As you know, that would have guaranteed Malfoy time in Azkaban. He'll be released from house arrest on January 1, but will be on probation for ten years. I know it's a small comfort…._

Small comfort?

Katie crushed the parchment in her fist. What did it matter, really? She was never Malfoy's intended victim. He'd simply used her, stolen her will, forced her to be the vessel of his stupid plot. If eagle-eyed Leanne hadn't noticed something was wrong, maybe Katie never would have touched that damned cursed necklace. Certainly, That Git Malfoy didn't intend to put her in hospital for six months. Of course, he never cared either.

At least she punched him in the face. That may be the most satisfying justice Katie would ever know. Smoothing the letter out, she folded it into a rectangle, then folded it again, and stuffed it into her pocket.

"Alright, lads," Katie announced, her voice overly bright. "Say good-bye to our friend."

The boys stood on tiptoe at the counter to watch as Katie shooed the tiny owl out the window and closed it. The morning was cold and gray with a sharp wind cutting through the garden. Campbell's birthday was in a few days, and he desperately wanted snow. Alas, Mother Nature did not appear to be accommodating. Luckily, the lad's uncle was a wizard. Oliver already promised there would be snow—at least enough to build a snowman.

"Who wants breakfast?" She turned to the cooker only to see that the porridge had overcooked in all the excitement. It was gray, dry, and plastered to the pot. Even with magic, porridge was hard to scrub loose once it burned. With a sigh, Katie pulled out a loaf of bread. Toast and jam it was.

"Morning."

Before Oliver clattered down the last steps, the boys were out of their chairs again to greet him.

"Unca Ollie, there was an owl!" Campbell reported.

"Hoot!" Bobby added.

Oliver scooped them up. "The owl brings the paper every morning, lads."

"It was a wee owl, not the big one."

Oliver deposited each boy into his chair. "You can tell me all about it over breakfast, but let me talk to Auntie Kay for a moment."

Placing the pan of bread under the grill, Katie plastered a smile on her face before facing her husband. Anytime That Git Malfoy came up in discussion, Oliver got his wand in a twist. There was simply no point in getting angry over that twat getting off—both Oliver and Katie knew this was likely to happen. They'd spoken of the possibility a half dozen times in the last year alone. This was not a surprise. After all, the Malfoys were exactly the kind of worms who wriggled off any hook.

"Katie…" Oliver started, his eyes were soft and sad, his mouth pulled down.

"That's a nasty gash," Katie said. She touched her wand to his chin and healed the livid red wound.

"Cheers." He fingered his chin.

"I could take care of that hairy caterpillar on your lip, too."

"Katie, lass."

Oliver spread his hands wide across her belly then slid them around her back to pull her close. Resting her head against his chest, Katie's eyes fluttered shut. The weight of her pregnancy and the burned porridge and the rowdy boys all seemed a bit too much on this morning.

"On the wireless—"

"I know," Katie said and straightened.

Oliver's brow furrowed. "I'll stay home today…."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"But—"

"Let it go. It's all in the past." She pointed at the oven. "I'll burn the toast if I don't check it."

As promised, Oliver listened to the boys chatter about the wee owl, but he kept shooting worried looks Katie's way. Which was utterly ridiculous. Oliver knew better than to think she was going to burst into tears over Malfoy, especially not in front of Campbell and Bobby. That Git didn't deserve her anger or frustration or tears.

Fours years had passed since Katie touched that necklace. Yes, she lost six months of her life, but she woke up. She returned to Hogwarts to finish her education and play one more Quidditch match. So much had happened since then. The war was won, Fred died, Katie married Oliver, and they had a baby. She stroked her belly. Soon, they'd have two babies. Malfoy took six months of her life, but she had the rest to do with as she pleased.

Oliver levitated his plate and mug to the sink. "Be good lads."

Dodging sticky fingers, Oliver kissed each boy before coming to stand before Katie. He still wore that sad, worried look as he leaned in to kiss her.

"Hold it right there, Wood." She placed her hand over his lips.

"Katie?"

"I do not kiss caterpillars."

His eyes flashed with challenge. "Is that so?"

"New policy, I'm afraid. Quite strictly enforced."

"I bet I can prove you wrong." He snagged her hands, making her giggle, then pressed his lips against her neck.

"Oliver!" Katie squealed. "You're scratchy!"

"Later," he growled in her ear.

Katie watched Oliver walk out the door, but even as the latch clicked shut, she wished he'd come back. She looked at the boys with jam smeared across their faces. Those little faces meant the world to her, but at that moment she wasn't sure how to name the feeling caught in her chest. Like she could lose it all: Oliver and their children, this family they made. It was utterly stupid. Pregnancy hormones, most likely.

Lumbering out of her chair, Katie went to the door. She could see her husband through the window still at the back gate.

"Oliver!"

He turned around.

Katie trudged down the steps and over the cold, hard packed earth, but Oliver was there before she was even halfway.

"Lass?" His brow was drawn.

"I'm being stupid."

Oliver didn't speak if he could act instead. So he said nothing, just pulled Katie near. Her big belly bulged between them. The steady rhythm of his heart beat against her ear, familiar and soothing. Some of the tension in her chest eased. She didn't feel so panicked, just sad. Stupid hormones.

"I can stay home," Oliver offered again.

"No." Katie pulled away, shaking her head. "Life must go on."

"We can take this one day."

"One more day _he_ gets? No. He can't have any more of my days."

The wind buffeted them as they stared at each other. Katie didn't want to think about That Git Malfoy, she didn't want to talk about him. It was a battle Malfoy was going to win. At least for now. Someday, maybe, the cursed necklace would truly be behind her. She would never think about it. She would never wonder about that black spot in her brain where her seventh year was meant to be. She'd have so many new memories that their collective shine would eclipse the darkness.

Katie cupped Oliver's face. "I miss your face." Then, standing on tiptoe, Katie kissed him.

oOo

"Sh! You'll wake Bobby."

Katie was halfway down the stairs when she heard her name being called from the kitchen. A part of her wanted to march back up the steps and hide in her room. Finding Alicia Spinnet standing in her kitchen in the middle of the week (when she should be working) was not as much of a surprise as it should have been.

"Sorry," Alicia said. "We heard the news and wanted to check on you."

"We?" Katie put the kettle on. _We_ couldn't possibly mean Alicia and Lee.

"Angelina and me. She'd be here, but—"

"Gwenog Jones didn't feel that Angelina's friend's would-be murderer getting probation was a good enough reason to miss training?"

"Well, no. Especially not with the Arrows match coming up. They're good this year."

"I appreciate your concern, but it's fine."

"The hell it is!" Alicia puffed up, her mouth contorted and her eyes narrowed.

Katie plopped two teabags into the pot. "Maybe it's not, but there's nothing to be done about it."

"Katie." Alicia took her friend's hands, ending Katie's preparations. "It's alright to be angry or sad or…or just plain frustrated."

"I know, but I don't see how that's going to change things. I survived Draco Malfoy's machinations… Have you ever stopped to consider what a stupid plan it was?"

Alicia snorted. "I'm rather thankful for his incompetence, honestly."

Thankfully, the kettle whistled at that moment. Katie would welcome a stampede of hippogriffs just to change the subject. Life had never afforded them time to sit down and hash out the events of her seventh year. The months and years to come just moved too quickly for any type of retrospection. But Katie knew that she wasn't the only one hurt by the cursed necklace—she might even be the lucky one. She had no memory of those months, and that haunted her, but her parents, her friends, Oliver. They were forced to keep vigil over her still body, helpless as Katie hovered between life and death. The war would take so much more than Katie's six missing months. Though they didn't know it at the time, the cursed necklace was just the beginning.

"Tea ready?"

Katie was pulled out of her thoughts when Campbell popped into the kitchen. On Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and every third Saturday, when his mother was working, Campbell stayed at Red's Wood during the day with Katie. The two of them took tea and read stories while Bobby napped. It was their little ritual, and it was too important to let the Malfoys of the world interrupt.

"Almost, love." Katie turned to her nephew. "Do you mind if Alicia joins us?"

The boy's face lit up. "Did you bring your broomstick? Auntie Kay can't fly anymore."

"I'm afraid not," Alicia replied with a faux frown.

All of the enthusiasm drained from his face. His lip poked out as he shuffled back to the library.

"Goodness." Alicia started to laugh, but slapped her hand over her mouth. "So, all Wood men are Quidditch-mad then?"

"I'm afraid so," Katie giggled. She put on bad brogue, "Even the wee bairns."

Alicia carried the tea tray into the library—the bigger she got, the more people treated Katie like an invalid.

"Do you have your story?"

"Almost." Campbell was rifling through a basket full of picture books, a lion clutched in his other hand.

"Who is this?" Alicia asked, pinching the lion's paw between her fingers.

"'Tis Wee Dougal. Unca Oliver give me him when I was a bairn."

Alicia's eyes widened. She knew as well as Katie that the real Dougal was the boy's father, murdered by Death Eaters. Shooting an alarmed look at Katie, Alicia retreated into a nearby chair. Reminders of all they lost were everywhere, sewn into the fabric of their everyday life. It was Catriona, Campbell's mum and Oliver's sister-in-law, who first called that lion Wee Dougal. During the war, after the Ministry of Magic fell to Voldemort, Katie escaped to France with Catriona and Campbell to wait out the war as refugees. Just eight-months-old and suspicious of all the new people around him, Campbell clung to Catriona for days. She'd dug the lion out of her trunk and told him that Wee Dougal would look after him. Even then, Katie wondered where Catriona found the strength.

Katie settled on the floor next to the tea table. "Here, I have your cuppa."

The boy curled into what was left of her lap, ignoring his milky tea. "Is the baby awake?"

Katie's belly jumped, and two quick bumps appeared where the baby kicked. "What do you think?"

"Unca Oliver says we're going to have another boy."

"Probably," Katie admitted. A part of her held out hope for a girl, but she was beginning to believe in that nonsense about Wood's only having boys.

It was a familiar story about a boy who gets lost in the Forbidden Forest and makes friends with the fairies. He grew up wild and untamed until Mummy finds him. It was a favorite of the boys, but Katie always found it a bit frightening. Listening drowsily, Campbell rested his red head against Katie's belly, one arm draped over the crest of it. When the book lay closed on the floor, Katie stroked her nephew's hair, admiring his ginger lashes and pale brow. That hollow feeling cratered her chest again. If the hole in her glove had been bigger, she could have missed all of this. Katie's eyes burned, a lump clogged her throat, but she wasn't going to give into crying.

As much as Katie didn't want this day to be about That Git Malfoy, maybe she didn't have a choice in the matter. That snarling, cowardly boy used her and almost killed her in the process. Those were the least of his sins. Now he was free. No number of parole meetings would ever set the scale equal to the pain he'd caused. The baby inside of Katie stretched and punched her in the ribs. She winced, knowing that if she was going to reckon with Draco Malfoy's crimes, there was something she had been putting off.

"Alicia, would you mind watching the boys for me? There's something I need to do."

Alicia sat up, frowning. "Of course."

"Love, I have to leave for a bit, but Alicia will be here," Katie said to Campbell.

The boy looked over Katie's shoulder at the other woman. "Can she use your broomstick?"

Katie laughed and hugged Campbell tight. "Yes, _if_ she wants. Be a good lad, I'll try to be back before your mummy comes."

A short time later, Katie was spit out of the Floo at the Three Broomsticks. Magical travel was not designed with pregnancy in mind. She couldn't fly because her center of gravity was off. She couldn't Apparate for fear of splinching in her condition. That left Katie with one option: the Floo network. Half the time, she ended up on her hands and knees with a lung full of ash.

It was shortly after the lunch rush ended, but the pub still had several patrons lingering over meals. Dusting herself off, Katie stood on tiptoe to survey the taproom. It was exactly as she remembered it. The mirror over the bar, the stone hearth with three broomsticks mounted above the mantle, the cozy booths and round tables polished to a high shine. Not seeing the person she was looking for, Katie trundled to the bar.

"Excuse me, is Madam Rosmerta in today?"

The barkeep's bushy eyebrows rose, but before he could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open. The woman in question materialized carrying a large tray laden with mugs of Butterbeer and steaming Cornish pasties. There was no need for Katie to introduce herself. The older woman's eyes fell on her, recognition dawning on her face.

"This-this needs to go to table five…I'll be back," Madam Rosmerta stammered.

Wrenching her gaze away, Madam Rosmerta stalked away to deliver the food with mechanical precision. No light banter, no saucy looks. The Madam Rosmerta of Katie's memory was a bit flirtatious and familiar with all of her customers. Excusing herself, Katie waited for the other woman in the wingback chairs by the fireplace.

Madam Rosmerta disappeared into the kitchen again after serving table five. Several minutes passed with no sign of the landlady. Just when Katie wondered how long it took to store a tray, Madam Rosmerta emerged. She wiped her hands on her apron, sneaking glances as Katie. Maybe Katie should have planned this meeting better. Showing up at the Three Broomsticks unannounced wasn't really fair to the poor woman. Over the years, Katie had sat down to write a letter requesting this meeting a dozen times. Those attempts never got further than the salutation. If Katie hadn't acted on impulse, she might never have entered the pub at all.

Finally, Madam Rosmerta approached with her hands clasped and her head bowed. "Katie Bell."

Katie stood, her arms cradling her belly. "It's Wood now."

"Yes, I-I read that in the _Daily Prophet_."

Silence squatted between them. While Madam Rosmerta couldn't seem to look at her, Katie found herself incredibly curious about this woman. On her first Hogsmeade weekend, Katie explored the town with Angelina and Alicia, ending up in the Three Broomsticks. It was Katie's first taste of warm Butterbeer. A part of Katie still preferred hot chocolate. Shortly after, Fred and George joined the Chasers, Lee in tow. Finally, Oliver walked into the Three Broomsticks with Percy. His friend went one way and Oliver joined the team. After all this time, Katie no longer remembered what they talked about or what the twins said that made her laugh so hard that Butterbeer came out her nose. She just remembered the feeling. It was a golden moment, and around the edges was Madam Rosmerta, refilling their mugs and serving chips.

The twins flirted outrageously with the curvy, older woman, who half-deflected and half-encouraged their behavior. Even Oliver sneaked looks at Madam Rosmerta that made Katie, already besotted, stew silenty. Still, none of the girls could harbor jealousy for the friendly, welcoming woman who owned her own establishment. Now, she looked shrunken. Her face was lined, her shoulders stooped.

"I hope I haven't upset you," Katie blurted.

Madam Rosmerta shook her head. "Of-of course not."

"Maybe we could…sit?" Katie motioned to the chairs.

"Of course! Let's get you off your feet." Rosmerta reached for Katie's hand, but she yanked them away.

The two women stared at each other. Katie's hands were curled into tight fists before her stomach. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. The urge to run was nearly overwhelming, and Katie shot a sharp look at the Floo.

"I'm sorry!" Madam Rosmerta blurted. Her eyes wide, and lips trembling.

Katie took a deep breath. "You-you've heard the…news?"

"Yes." Madam Rosmerta scowled.

With that out of the way, both women sat on the edges of their chairs.

"My husband and friends are all worried about me today," Katie said.

"Do they think you'll try to murder him in your condition?"

Laughter burst out of Katie. The two women shared a look full of understanding.

"I should," Katie said. "I could plead hormone-induced insanity."

Madam Rosmerta shook her head. "He might deserve it, but you don't. You don't deserve anymore pain on his account."

"That doesn't make it go away, though, does it?"

"No."

This meeting, which always seemed so impossible, settled into something else. Maybe it wasn't healing for either of them, but there was understanding. Katie was in the presence of the one person who truly understood what it meant to be Draco Malfoy's victim. The twat bullied half of Hogwarts, so plenty of people knew what it meant to be victimized by Malfoy. None of them were so intimately violated as Katie and the woman sitting next to her. Not even Ron Weasley. He'd suffered so many near death experiences as Harry Potter's best mate that one little poisoning hardly counted.

"I've not been here since the cursed necklace," Katie admitted.

"I know." Madam Rosmerta worried her hands. "That year…my memories are spotty. They had to tell me what I did to you."

Slowly, Katie reached out and placed her hand over Madam Rosmerta's. "I don't blame you."

The older woman looked at Katie. In truth, it was Madam Rosmerta who Imperiused Katie and instructed her to take that damned necklace to Professor Dumbledore. One more convoluted detail in That Git Malfoy's careless scheme.

"I know what he did to you," Katie said. "I know what it's like to have your will stolen."

The other woman's eyes glistened. "I should have been stronger."

"Me, too."

oOo

"Oliver! Your face!"

"You said you missed it." He climbed into bed next to Katie.

She ran her fingers over his smooth skin. "I did."

Groaning, Oliver relaxed against the pillows. "I might have overdone it at training today. Pissed off Coach actually."

"Were you imagining the Quaffle as Malfoy's head?"

"Might have done."

Katie leaned back so that her head was pillowed against his good shoulder. The baby was particularly active at this time of night. They watched for a bit as elbows and footprints were visible against Katie's tight skin.

"I went to the Three Broomsticks today. Alicia watched the boys."

Oliver was silent for a moment then, "By yourself?"

"It's not like Madam Rosmerta would hurt me," Katie replied.

"No. I know. Just…."

That was the scene of the crime. Oliver knew too well how reluctant Katie had been to visit the Hogsmeade pub, but her time with Madam Rosmerta acted as a balm. It allowed Katie to put some of her fears and resentments behind her, but she knew that she would never step foot in the Three Broomsticks again. Today also forced Katie to admit that she would never fully close the door on the cursed necklace. She didn't like it.

"Well, it's not like I visited the toilets while I was there," Katie said.

"Lass." Oliver shook his head.

"Although I needed to. I always need to these days."

Oliver rolled onto his side so he was facing Katie. "Are you alright?"

"You do not want to talk about feelings," Katie stated.

"I never want to talk about feelings, but it's part of my husbandly duties. It said so in the contract: kill all bugs, change stinky nappies, talk about feelings. I'd rather deal with the nappies, 'tis true, but I'll manage."

Katie traced his upper lip. "You know, I don't need you to kill bugs for me."

"I've always loved your bravery. Even if it sends you off to the Three Broomsticks on your own."

All day, people wanted to know how Katie was feeling. It was annoying really. For the most part, Katie couldn't put words to her emotions. But she thought maybe she had figured something out. She needed to forgive herself for still being angry about the cursed necklace. It didn't matter that worse things happened in the war, to people she loved, the cursed necklace was still the worst thing that happened to her personally. She was angry about it, and that was okay. Maybe, someday, she could even get around to forgiving Malfoy.

"I'm pissed," Katie admitted. "Did you know one of the mitigating circumstances was his age at the time? His barristers argued that he couldn't be held accountable for his actions because he was just a kid when it happened. Well, I was a kid, too."

Oliver pushed her hair behind her ear. "I wish I could fix this for you."

"I know you do." She tried for a smile. "One good thing did come from all this."

"Hm?"

"My nearly dying forced you to admit your feelings for me at last."

He stared at Katie, his mouth flat. "Don't joke about that."

"I'm sorry." She nestled close to him, her head against his shoulder. "Sometimes it's easier to make jokes."

He kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair. Silence settled over the room, and Katie's mind quieted at last. Instead of parsing out all the dreadful parts of her past, she thought about little things. Bobby had his first case of the sniffles for the winter; she would have to check her supply of Pepper Up potion. She still needed to wrap

Campbell's birthday gift—a toy farm set, he would love it. In fact, she only had half her Christmas shopping done. Perhaps her mother-in-law would watch the boys one of these afternoons. Katie could visit George on Diagon Alley, he was always good for a laugh. Maybe she could get Oliver a new razor. The fullness of her bladder.

Pushing herself up, Katie looked at Oliver. "I have to use the loo, but don't you dare move. I'm going to snog you when I get back!"

Oliver chuckled as Katie crab-crawled off the bed.


End file.
